31 Eerie Tales of Halloween!
by Altsoba
Summary: Just some drabbles for Halloween, all Eerie centric. The plan is to have 31 of them up before Halloween. There will probably be a wide range of genres here! I have changed the rating to T, just to be safe. Theme 9: Scary Movies
1. What's in a Name?

Alright- I've never done anything for Eerie, Indiana before but it was one of my favorite shows growing up and I only recently rediscovered it and decided to try my hand at writing something for it. So let me know if anything seems OOC or anything I can do to improve at all!

Also, this is for a Halloween themes challenge that my friend and I do, if you want to do the challenge too send me a PM and I'll give you the themes. There should be 31 of these up before Halloween, even if I am about 5 days behind, so we'll see how it goes.

I don't own anything here, just the thoughts in my head.

* * *

For the theme of Tombstones

What's in a Name?

There had to be one here somewhere; one that would be fitting, one that didn't seem to be of use to anyone anymore. He knew what it was like to be abandoned, forgotten, with nothing to give you an identity.

He was just a boy looking for a name; and this had to be the place for it.

This place was full of names that no one wanted anymore. Whole lives left to be picked up by anyone looking for a past. It wasn't like these people needed their pasts, they weren't going to be using them anytime soon.

He had passed into the area of the graveyard where the names were nearly washed away from age and the tombstones jutted up from the ground like broken teeth. This was where he would find his name, the one that he could take. These were the forgotten ones; these were the ones who had been gone so long that they would need help in having their stories remembered. He could help them tell their story, their story would become his.

He studied the names on weathered, stone markers but none of them seemed to fit.

With a dejected groan the grey-haired boy sat back on his haunches. It was no use; they were meaningless. He didn't know the stories behind the names. There was nothing there for him to take.

He had thought it would be easy, just like going to the World-o-Stuff, so easy he didn't know why he hadn't already done this. But he was wrong, like everything else he seemed to try. There were no stories here for him to continue. No past that he could use for his own.

Sighing, he placed his hands on either side of the aged name before him, willing it to give him its story; to tell him the secret of having a past. If only the marks on his hands could give him a story, but they were as silent as the names inscribed upon the stones.

He sat in silence a moment, mulling thoughts of names and markings and pasts over in his mind.

The marks on his hands weren't a traditional name of sorts, but they were a mark. More importantly, they were his mark and led to a past that was wholly his; not borrowed. Why shouldn't he use these enigmatic marks to find his own past? If not, then he could at least make a new one with them.


	2. New Roommates

Theme 2, Spiders.

I don't own anything here.

* * *

New Roommates

This place would do. The grey-haired boy inspected the interior of the dim and abandoned mill that he had decided to call home; he couldn't see much light come in through the ceiling. At least this place had that much going for it.

As his eyes adjusted to the dark he could make out shadows of large machines left to rust. There were some old crates left around to disintegrate, as well as a broken chair that he thought could be made useful.

Deciding to leave no stone unturned, the boy began to search through the old crates, hoping for maybe a lamp or matches or, if he was extremely lucky, a bottomless pit full of hamburgers. Of course, he'd just settle for not slicing his fingers open on some rusted out blade in the dark of the box. That would certainly be an unpleasant surprise.

The boy froze; there was something in the box with his hand. He could feel it skitter on his hand.

"Oh please don't be a spider, please don't be a spider, please don't be a spider…" He shut his eyes as he brought his hand out of the crate.

Not wanting to see what eight legged monster would await his eyes he flipped his hand. Without another glance at the crate the boy quickly wiped his hand on the leg of his pants. He would definitely have to be more careful about disturbing his new roommates if he stayed.

* * *

I know, more Dash. But his are just easier for me to write. I've got two more that involve Marshall and Simon, but I seem to write more with them, so they'll take a little bit to finish. One's almost done tho so it should be up shortly. Besides- the shorter they are the faster I can get them up!

I hope you enjoy, and once again. Critiques are greatly appreciated!


	3. Crazy Cat Lady

For the theme Black Cats. I'm really not happy with this one :/ There seems something missing and I'm not sure I did the characters well.

I don't own anything

* * *

Candles and Cats

"Why'd ya do it, huh?" Marshall glared down at the inscrutable black cat at his feet. "I wanna know why you tried to kill me!"

The cat didn't answer or even give any sign of understanding, at least not that Marshall could tell; it merely lifted its white x'd paw to give it a licking before trotting along again.

"I know you can understand me, Dash," Marshall was getting angry. He didn't even notice when people stopped on the street to stare at the boy yelling at the cat.

"Why did you do it?" He aimed a kick but Dash was too fast. The black cat darted down an alley and leapt onto a nearby dumpster. Marshall found himself unwillingly stomping after the object of his fury. "If it weren't for Simon I wouldn't even be helping you!"

Dash hissed, arching his back. "What, now you won't even talk to me? You came to me, remember?" Marshall threw his hands up in frustration. "I shouldn't have even expected anything different from _you!_"

Marshall spun on his heel, nearly running into the old woman he'd seen earlier at the World-o-Stuff. Dash continued to growl and hiss behind him, but now Marshall knew that the anger was probably directed at this woman rather than himself.

"You might want to keep your voice down if you're going to be talking to dumb animals, some people might think you're crazy," Her shrewd eyes never left Dash the cat even if her speech was directed at Marshall. "That's a pretty kitty you have there, even if it seems to have a bad attitude."

A low growl continued to emanate from behind Marshall.

"You know, I used to have a cat just like that. It ran away a few days ago," She leaned around Marshall to give Dash a closer look, but not close enough that Dash could reach her with his claws. "Where did you happen to find this cat? Bad attitude or not I would love to have my cat back."

There was something in her voice that gave Marshall a chill. "Well, it's not mine, I mean; I just found it and, uh, followed it down here. I, uh, can't stand to see a homeless animal."

Marshall backed closer to Dash, away from the strange woman. "Well then, let me give you something for finding my cat for me." She reached into the many shawls wrapped around her thin frame and brought out a small trinket and candle. "I know they're not much, and kids today would probably prefer candy or money, but this is all I have. If you hadn't noticed I sell these at the World-o-Stuff."

Thrusting the two small objects at Marshall, the old woman pushed past the teen and attempted to snatch the cat from his perch on the dumpster. With a growling yawl Dash slashed the woman with his claws and darted away. There was no where for him to go when he reached the end of the alley, but he was able to find a place to hide.

"Shoot, I'll have to see if I can get him back later," the old woman contemplated the bleeding cuts on the back of her hand a moment and there was a definite chill in her voice when she said. "That's one that I certainly have to get back."

Her eyes narrowed and she clenched her uninjured fist by her side. "Yes, that one I must definitely have." Turning on Marshall, her demeanor changed. "You can still keep those, dear, for finding him in the first place. Maybe I can get the dog catcher to come down here and catch a cat for me. If you wouldn't mind waiting here and making sure he doesn't escape again I'll just go get the catcher."

"Just one question," Marshall almost reached out to touch her back, but thought better of it. "What's your cat's name, I mean, maybe I can coax him back out."

"Oh, his name? It's," The woman hesitated for a moment. "Dash. His name is Dash." With that she was gone.

Marshall didn't like working with Dash, but there was definitely something eerie going on here. He watched Dash slink back down the alley, trying to look everywhere for the old woman.

"She's still around, just whisper," Dash hissed at Marshall when he got close enough. He crouched next to Marshall's leg, ears twitching back and forth. "She's a witch, I'm not sure what she does, but I think she's the reason for all the vanishing kids."

Marshall started, remembering at the last moment to keep his voice at a whisper. "How did you, you mean, you've been looking for the missing kids too?"

The cat gave Marshall an unmistakably Dash look of annoyance. "I want to know how this town even survived without me here to back you up, you know that?" Marshall snorted at this. "Look, I took some stuff from that witch, a candle and necklace like what she gave you. Long story short, I lit the candle and got turned into a cat; she found me and took me to her house I guess. Almost like she knew I was the one who stole her stuff. But there were all these other cats there, kids I mean, but they were cats like me."

The two little objects in Marshall's hand seemed so sinister now, that old woman was trying to turn him into a feline. "Was Simon there? Did you happen to notice if he was there?"

Dash opened his mouth to speak, but could only manage to meow. Marshall looked down at Dash's black furred head and felt his frustration rise. "What's your problem? I just want to know if Simon was there too."

Sniffing, Dash rose from his position and walked back to the mouth of the alley. He looked left and right before turning back to Marshall and giving a mournful howl. That's when it dawned on Marshall; Dash probably couldn't talk unless the witch was near. It probably had something to do with the way the spell worked.

---

Swinging the bag in her hand as much as she possibly could, she delighted in hearing the cat hiss at her from inside. "Oh come now, you can talk to me, mama knows all the little kitty secrets."

"I'll claw your face off when I get out of here," Dash nearly screamed from inside the bag as the old woman made sure to smack him into the doorjamb of her house.

"Well then, if you're going to act like that I'm just going to have to make sure that you stay in that bag for a long time then. Too bad for you that you're little friend wanted to get an old woman her 'poor little lost kitty' back. I have a feeling that we'll be seeing him again. Well, I will, you'll still be in this bag."

Dash squirmed inside the bag again, trying to twist into a more comfortable position. His attempts were hindered by the constant thumps he was subjected to by the woman's incessant swinging of the bag. He could only hope that Marshall would get here before any of his bones were broken.

---

Marshall waited until the woman had shut the door behind herself before he crossed to the building. This had been a house that he and Simon were actually planning on investigating at one point in time. People said it was haunted, one of the many haunted houses in Eerie, and that they could hear strange moans coming from inside. If there were as many cats in here as there were missing children, Marshall didn't doubt that people had been hearing noises.

A light shown out from inside the house, it had the flickering quality of a fire and allowed Marshall to see some shadows of what was going on inside. He could see the woman slam the bag which he knew to contain Dash into a table and chair before she thumped him into the hearth of the fireplace where she hung the bag from something near the fire. He couldn't really hear anything, though, just muffled sounds that could be voices.

Silently, Marshall made his way from the window to the back of the house, looking for a way in.

---

"Just wait, you won't get out of this one. You picked the wrong town to mess with this time," Simon called from inside his cage. "My friend Marshall'll take you out!"

The other children growled or cried to themselves inside their cages, some calling out insults to the old woman while others wished for their parents.

"Oh, hush up. You can ask you're little friend over there," she poked at the bag containing Dash with a stick, causing the cat inside to hiss in rage. "I expect you're little friend Marshall to be here tonight. He doesn't expect anything and will probably go ahead and light that candle soon."

She pulled a sheet from a statue that looked just like the trinkets but on a larger scale. It glowed with a strange, pulsing, green light.

Marshall peered at the scene from around the doorjamb leading into the kitchen; there were rows upon rows of black cats in cages lining every available shelf and where there were no shelves, the cages were stacked on top of each other. He was close enough to Dash that he might be able to whisper without the old woman overhearing. "Stall her."

"Hey, old bat," came Dash's muffled voice from inside the bag. "What's the point of turning kids into cats anyway? Can't you just go buy a bunch from the pound or something? Wouldn't that be a lot easier?"

"What's that? I don't think I want to answer children who can't keep their tones civil and call names," the old woman jabbed at Dash with a stick again to mark her point.

Dash sighed. "Alright, I think I can do civil. What does a fine, upstanding and sprightly old woman like you want with a bunch of kids that she's turned into cats?"

"You're sarcasm aside," she said, rustling in the cupboards for something. "I need you for a spell I'm casting. You see, it's hard to continue being immortal if you can't steal a few young lives every few years. This just happens to be the best way to do it. I get to make a little money on the side because you kids are so easy to sell things too. That is, those kids who actually buy things, and. Don't. Steal. Them." Each of her last words were punctuated by a thump from the bag containing Dash. "That's why I think you'll be the first to go, dear."

The other cats in the room winced, a few more redoubled their please for help. Dash groaned from inside his bag before he could manage to speak again. "What if Marshall doesn't light his candle, huh? Are you screwed then? Isn't it getting down to the wire about now?"

Lifting a knife from the table she turned, the odd green light caught her eyes and turned them into something snakelike. "That's why I'm not going to wait, I can start now and finish when he gets here."

"No! You can't do this!" Simon threw himself into the side of his cage, trying anything to distract the woman headed for Dash.

"Who's going to stop me?" She turned a little, showing her back to the kitchen door where Marshall hid.

Marshall sprung from his hiding place, catching the old woman's knife hand in his own. They wobbled for a little bit, the old woman's frail body fighting to keep the younger boy from wresting the knife from her.

"You were right, I was on my way," Marshall gasped as he swung around in a circle.

They crashed into a stack of cages, freeing children as the doors to their cages sprang open. A few of the cats ran away, but most stayed to join in the fray. Clawing their way up the old woman's dress where they clung, biting and scratching where ever they could.

Dash worked on clawing his way out of the top of the bag.

The fight grew more desperate, bouncing off more cat cages and crashing into walls, culminating in a slam into the statue. For a moment everything in the room grew still, hardly seeming to breathe as the statue swayed back and forth on its perch. It settled back, the old woman giving a triumphant cry as she managed to shake Marshall and the cats off herself.

She brandished the knife at Marshall now, advancing towards him with a demonic sort of glee. "You and your friend have given me an extraordinarily hard time with this. I think I'll enjoy putting an end to your lives and this town behind me."

Marshall put his arm up in a weak defense against the blade.

"I don't think you're going to be doing any of that," Dash stood next to the statue looking worse for the wear. "Next time you shouldn't put your valuables on such a high table."

He gave as hard of a push as he could against the statue, sending it toppling over the side where it shattered on the floor.

The old woman screamed, dropping the knife and launching herself at the shards of broken porcelain. Her screams turned to catlike yawls, her fingers shrank back into paws.

"I didn't think that would happen," Simon walked up behind Marshall, brushing a few strands of black fur from his face. They each looked down at the cat meowing pathetically on the floor.

"Yeah, somehow I thought it would be more spectacular." Dash looked far worse back in his human form then he did as a cat, his face covered in bruises.

Marshall watched the last few kids run from the house, he wondered if they would remember any of this later. "What do you mean more spectacular?"

His question was addressed to thin air as the grey haired boy was already gone.

"I hate it when he does that," Simon sighed. "Thanks for saving me, how'd you figure it out?"

Marshall looked down at his friend, clapping him on the back as they began the short walk home where they would tag his own candle and trinket for further evidence of the weirdness of Eerie. "I couldn't have done it without Dash."

Shocked silence greeted his answer. "What?"

"You and Dash?"


	4. Policies

This one is for the theme Coffins

I don't own anything here-

* * *

Policies

Dark, cramped and more than a little claustrophobic; if he managed to get out of this they were definitely going to have a policy about coffins.

Guns and coffins. Two very good policies. Two very good policies that would be designed to keep him, Simon Holmes, out of trouble and safely away from death. He wished he had something to write this new policy down with, just to prove that they had a policy on coffins. Not that it mattered; Marshall never seemed to follow their policies anyway.

Not on guns and he probably wouldn't follow a new policy about coffins, either.

But that was Marshall, he was Simon. Simon the boy who unquestioningly climbed into a coffin to wait in the funeral parlor until nighttime so that he and Marshall could investigate the place for weirdness.

He found himself wondering, once again, why he didn't have a normal hobby. Why couldn't he start collecting stamps? Was it too late for him to even start?

The only solace he had was that Marshall was in another coffin, also waiting for night to come and it wouldn't matter how stuck he was inside this coffin, Marshall Teller would get him out. Marshall always got them out.

But they were still going to have a policy.


	5. First Time

Theme 5, Trick or Treat.

I don't own anything here.

* * *

First Time

"You guys do this every year?"

Marshall and Simon both nodded with the utmost solemnity.

"Well, there was last year," Simon looked at Marshall. "With my brother and the mummy."

Simon didn't elaborate, but Dash didn't really care.

"So for one night every year, you're allowed to go around and beg free stuff from the adults and if they don't deliver you can then throw eggs at their house? And nobody does anything to stop you?" Dash had only ever read about such an event, but never witnessed one for himself, at least not that he could remember. He dared hope it was true at the time; but to actually participate in one was more than he could've wanted. "That's what the costumes are for, right? So they can't identify you later?"

Simon laughed at the teen's complete ignorance of the rituals for trick or treating; even Marshall found himself smiling a little bit.

"I don't think they would stop you even if you weren't wearing a costume. It's a tradition that goes back years," Marshall stated. "Something to do with ancient pagan rituals to frighten off wandering spirits."

Eyeing Marshall and Simon warily, waiting for a trick, Dash put his own mask on. "Alright then, but if we get caught I'm claiming that you two forced me into it."


	6. Mr Chainey's Opinion of the HarvestKing

Theme: Werewolf

I own nothing

* * *

Mr. Chainy's Opinion of the Harvest King

Traditions shouldn't be messed with. There's a reason they were made and there's a reason that's more to do with keeping the natural order of things than just because people are used to it that keeps a tradition going. Bad things happen when traditions are broken. But it's not like there's much difference between Harvest Kings and years anyway.

Tradition was, the Harvest King was just someone selected from town. As long as they were male and over the age of 13, that is. But this year they decided to mess with everything and pick someone. Some kid that'd been running around. They wrote out a ticket for him and everything and placed it special so that they'd have it to pick up after the drawing. They were gonna call out the name they wrote, rather than the name they drew; meaning that the right Harvest King wouldn't get his rightful recognition.

I didn't mind so much at the time. A Harvest King's a Harvest King. A full moon is also a full moon and when that comes around I truthfully don't care about much of anything. Not that I can remember many full moons. I seem to have a hard time remembering where I am at that time of the month.

But this time, at the Harvest King time, I don't think the Eerie Wolf came. I blame it on the broken tradition. That kid they chose wouldn't stick with the tradition, wanting to eat candy, talk to his friend. There was also Radford and that gun. Near as I can tell they must've tried to shoot the animal, but missed.

Tradition wasn't the only thing that was broken. I think that bullet did my foot in too.


	7. Little Monsters

Theme for Monsters- we've got little Marshall here!

I own nothing

* * *

Little Monsters

Marshall Teller's first experience with weirdness happened before he could walk. There was something that would hide underneath his crib that would come out when the lights were turned off and his parents left him alone for the night.

It would crawl out from under the bed and stare unblinkingly through the bars of the crib; not being old enough to do much of anything, Marshall fell back to the only thing he could do at such a time. He would cry.

At his parents' arrival the thing would vanish, back under the bed where no one thought to look, and Marshall would be taken to sleep with his parents. Safe for the night.

Eventually, he came to be too old for his parents to tolerate his cries. His crib was changed to a "big boy bed" but the monster stayed. If anything, the change in beds only made the thing larger, more violent looking and there were no more bars that separated the boy from the monster. Marshall had to resort to other methods of ridding himself of the crawly creature.

The stuffed t-rex seemed to offer some protection, not banishing the monster, but keeping it from climbing into the bed and using Marshall as a scratching post. The t-rex couldn't guarantee anything, though. There was always the possibility that it would fall off the bed at night, leaving the boy unprotected. Marshall would sleep with his entire body under the covers, thinking that this offered him at least some protection, but he could still feel those protuberant eyes watching him.

Later, when he was old enough, Marshall made the connection between the light and banishing the monster. He found an old flashlight that no one seemed to mind when it went missing.

The night he found the flashlight was the last night Marshall ever saw the monster. His young hands could almost fit around the barrel if he tried wrapping his fingers around it. It was heavy too, almost too heavy for the small boy to wield, but he managed.

When the monster came out, Marshall turned the light on. This too was only a temporary fix. Every night the monster would come back. It had moved now, from under the bed to the closet and seemed stronger than ever.

Marshall needed a permanent solution to his problem and the solution started the boy down the path to his calling. A knight against all things eerie, one who would protect humanity against what would creep out of the unknown to cause harm.

He was Marshall Teller, defender against the powers of weirdness.


	8. Zombies in Movies

Theme: Zombies

I still don't own anything

* * *

Zombies in Movies

Marshall couldn't help but notice that his best friend seemed to have something on his mind as they walked out of the movie theater. "Penny for your thoughts, man?"

Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, Simon thought for a few more seconds before he sighed. "Well, I don't know. Just that movie got me thinking. Do we have any contingency plans for zombies?"

The worry in Simon's mind had more to do with Marshall's willful ignorance of their policies and that a full blown zombie attack would require that they disregard what Simon thought was their most important policy. Flesh eating zombies meant that they would have to carry guns, or at least be around guns, which meant that they could get shot. Getting shot was definitely against Simon's policies.

"I'm not sure, I mean. I'd guess we'd have to find someplace to hole up where we could be safe, with lots of supplies and weapons if we needed them," Marshall shrugged. Zombies weren't something he normally worried about so he hadn't really given the idea much thought.

Simon sighed again. His hope was that Marshall would have a plan, Marshall always had a plan.

"We could always come up with a plan. I mean. We are the defenders against weirdness so maybe we should have one," Marshall warmed to the idea. "In fact, we should do that when we get home, we should always be prepared for any instance of weirdness."

"You mean more of a plan than going shopping?" Marshall and Simon both turned to see Dash walking behind them. "I mean, that was what you two did the last time zombies were in town. Of course, those zombies weren't as inclined to dine on flesh."

Snorting Marshall rolled his eyes at the gray haired teen. "Yeah, and what would _you _do if zombies came to town? Sell out their souls?"

Simon could tell that Marshall still felt a sting at being reminded of the time when they both fell victim to subliminal messages that forced them into a night of shopping for their souls. If it hadn't been for Dash, he and Marshall would have been just two more of the shopping zombies let loose on the town, buying on credit that was loaned out against their souls.

"I'd take over the World-o-Stuff if possible, but I think I'm pretty secure where I'm at. I can see anything coming for miles, I'm outside of town so the hordes will have to come to me. Besides, I've got supplies at my place and don't have much to travel with. I can leave at a moments notice." Dash seemed confident in his so called plan, but to Simon it didn't seem like much of a plan at all.

Of course, it was more than what he and Marshall had to go with. He listened to the other two boys argue about who would be better able to survive the zombie apocalypse and decided that this was a subject that they needed to research more thoroughly. This was something that they certainly needed a policy for.


	9. Study Session

A/N: I attempted to put a beginning and end on this one that is similar to what they do in the show. Let me know if it worked or not!

I don't own anything here.

Theme: Scary Movies

* * *

Something weird was going on in Eerie today, which meant that everything was normal by the rest of the world's standards. No aliens landing, no cults to be investigated, no freak tornadoes needing a sacrifice, even the dogs were behaving like regular dogs. After a few hours searching for some sign of mega voodoo weirdness, Simon and I decided that it would be best to use the day studying up for the attack that was surely to come.

---

The stack of movies near the couch was less impressive in both size and quality than it had been several hours ago; while the pile of disregarded films grew ever larger and more chaotic. It also grew more resented, but neither of the boys were willing to admit just how much resent they felt.

Sitting across from the blue-white screen if yet another unimpressive monster movie ending; Marshall and Simon began to wonder if the people who made these movies knew anything about the powers of weirdness at all.

"I'm beginning to think that these are all duds, Marshall," Simon lifted another movie off the dwindling stack, read the back of it and promptly tossed it into the "used" pile without even offering it up for viewing. "I don't think we need to know how to destroy giant, radio-active ants."

"I think you're right Simon, none of these have been very informative. The things we've faced, they've gotten wrong. It makes you wonder if they ever get anything right in the movies," Marshall sighed.

Each boy sat for a moment, lost in their own thoughts about the silence Eerie was offering them for the day. It was ominous, like the town was waiting for them to show a sign of weakness, to be unprepared.

Off in the distance something rumbled. Simon pictured antenna the size of trees reaching out to knock over buildings. Marshall could see an ant mound growing up from the earth to swallow half the interstate.

"You know, we might as well give that one a chance. I mean, we watched all the others, right?" Marshall tried to sound nonchalant.

"Yeah, I mean, it can't be any worse than the one about the tomatoes. Like that's ever going to happen," Simon gave a nervous chuckle.

---

Simon and I decided to err on the side of caution when it came to studying up on the things that go bump in the night. It was best not to tempt the powers of weirdness; it had the habit of sending whatever you weren't prepared for at you.


End file.
